Project Delphi
by Extant
Summary: Before you can know thyself, it must be a stranger. R/J-K


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A/N: This isn't my usual story. It's not even meant to be good. I wrote this insanely fast, and I haven't even edited it. But it's written, so I'll post it just to get it out of my system. I'm working on chapter five for _Prophecies of the Ascendant_, I promise! Bronchitis, finals, and a stick-up-their-ass university system has been hogging my time and energy, but it's almost done. Of course, the minute I finished my last final, the plot bunnies took me hostage…

Disclaimer: Not mine. Sue the plot bunnies.

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_Beep…Beep…Beep…Beep…Beep…Beep…_

Ugh. Someone shut that off.

_Beep…Beep…Beep…Beep…_

What the hell is that? …Not an alarm, not a clock, not a system alert… Damn annoying…

Just want to roll over and go back to sleep, but gotta shut that thing off. I struggle to open my eyes – feel like they've been glued shut –

_**Agh! **_I clamp a hand over my eyes. _**Shit!**_ That's bright! Feels like someone's stabbing me through the eyes.

…_beep beep beep beep beep…_

Faster now – mirrors my pulse as the spike from the pain of the bright light slows. Heart monitor? Can't be good.

I try opening my eyes a sliver, peering through my lashes, but all I can see is silver light-

A door opens on the left, footsteps, a woman's, soft rubber soles, smooth floor, and she pauses just inside. "You're awake!"

"Turn off the lights," I groan.

"Lights low," she says immediately, rushing across the room. There's the sound of curtains sliding on a metal bar, and the silver light against my eyes fades to gray. Cautiously, I open my eyes; this time I can see.

It's a hospital room. But…

I stiffen, my breath catching, and try to sit up. Wires and tubes trail after me, electrodes popping off my head as I pull against them, and the heart monitor next to me spikes again. The nurse rushes to my side, pushing me back down with a gentle hand on my shoulder.

"Something's wrong with my eyes-"

"Sir-"

"I can't see color!" I growl at her.

"I'll get the doctor," she says smoothly, her hand firm on my shoulder. I lay down – I can't do anything else without ripping all these wires off – and she swiftly slips out of the room. I clench my jaw, trying to push down the cold rush of adrenaline.

I can't see color… What's wrong?

…_beep, beep, beep, beep, beep-_

The door of the room opens again, admitting two men in white coats followed by the nurse. "Would somebody turn that off?!" I snap. The nurse rushes over and flips the machine off, turning to pull the electrodes out from under my thin hospital shirt as I try to sit up again.

"Just hold on," the doctor says, again pushing me back with a hand against my shoulder.

"Something's wrong with my eyes," I tell him urgently.

"Just let us get all these electrodes off of you, then I'll check you out," he answers as he and the nurse begin pulling the sensors off my scalp.

I stay raised on my elbows, every nerve on edge. When they're done, the nurse guides me to sit up, and I do so slowly, my limbs weak despite the adrenaline, as if I haven't moved in days. The doctors both come around the bed, the first standing in front of me while the other stands off to the side, clipboard in hand.

He does check my eyes first, but not with a light. He just puts his hands on either side of my head, tilting it and looking at my eyes. Shit. If he doesn't need light or magnification to see what's wrong, it's gotta be bad.

He has me follow his finger with my eyes, then checks my pulse, blood pressure, reflexes while the doctor beside him takes notes.

He takes a step back, crossing his arms. "Can you recite the alphabet backwards for me?"

What the hell did this have to do with my eyes? "Which one?" I ask in irritation.

"Any of them," he answers coolly.

"Hamza, ya, wao, ha, nun, mim, lam, kaf, qaf, fa, gayn, ayn, za, dtha, dahd, sahd, sin, zay, dal, ha, gim, ta, ba, alif."

He appears satisfied, and the other doctor scribbles.

"What happened? Why the hell am I in here?"

Now he frowns in concern. "You don't remember?"

"No."

"That's probably to be expected. You suffered head trauma, about a week ago. You've been in a coma since then. You're lucky to have survived."

"Is that why my eyes are so sensitive? Why I can't see colors?"

The doctor blinks in surprise, his frown of concern deepening. "No," he answers, hesitating thoughtfully. "Do you know what the date is?"

"Kinda hard to keep track of the days when you're unconscious," I answer sardonically.

His mouth pulls to the side, acknowledging it was a stupid question. "What about the year, then?"

I try to pull it up, but I can't. I shake my head.

"Do you know what planet you're on?"

"Should I?"

Wrong answer, apparently. The doc's face is closed off now. Whatever he's thinking, it's not good. The other one on edge, his pen scratching against the paper.

"What's your name and rank?"

Name and rank? Huh? "What?"

"Your name and rank. What are they?"

I stare at him, puzzled. Rank? What rank? Is that a test question? But my name-

Without thinking about it, I open my mouth to answer-

Nothing comes.

He prods me again, his voice low and gentle. "What's your name?"

I stare at the wall past his arm, grasping for what I had been about to say.

…my name…

…my name is…

I reach deeper, trying to find a memory, the sound of someone saying my name, then any memory, any memory at all…

There's nothing.

Oh, god…

I look up at him, and he sees the panic in my face. I try to stand, but he's immediately there, pushing me back down onto the edge of the bed. Behind him, the other two are already heading for the door. "It's alright. We're going to run some tests," he says, pulling away and following the others. "We'll be back shortly. We'll figure this out," he tells me over his shoulder.

I get up, trying to follow him, but my legs are weak, from fear or the coma or both. "Who am I?!" I call out after him.

"We'll be back," he says, slipping through the door. It closes behind him with a thud that seems loud in the empty room.

Cold crawls over my skin, and I sink back down on the bed, burying my face in my hands. "Oh, god. Who am I?"

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A/N: The alphabet Riddick recites backwards is Arabic. I left out some letters, because there's no way to spell them in English without an insane number of various pronunciation marks. If you'd like the whole alphabet, the best online guide for every writing system you can think of, from the archaic to the mundane to the fictional, is www dot omniglot dot com.


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